


Who Am I? (expanded)

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: Blair's father wants to kill him





	

**Author's Note:**

> The first 2035 words of this was a Give & Take challenge.  
> I subsequently planned to develop it further for the 2016 Nostalgia BB. However, developing it further stalled at that time, but I finally got the inspiration to finish it... And while it does have some AU elements I'd hesitate to classify it as an out and out AU

Who Am I?

by Bluewolf

Simon Banks took a reflective sip of his coffee while he considered the best way to broach the subject that was currently foremost on his mind.

The best way? Hell, he had been considering that for close on thirty-six hours, and he still wasn't sure how to tell Jim Ellison that there was something suspicious about the grad student whose ninety-day pass as an observer had been approved a bare week earlier.

Of course, Simon should have insisted on a background check before Sandburg got his pass. He *knew* he should have insisted on a background check before Sandburg got his pass - but after the way the kid had helped to bring down the Switchman (and Simon still had difficulty in thinking of the Switchman as a woman) he had ignored the little voice that kept muttering 'background check'. After the way the kid had handled himself during Kincaid's attack on the PD, Simon had convinced himself that the background check would be a pure formality.

But Sandburg's background only went back as far as 1984. It was as if, like Aphrodite, he had sprung full-grown - well, almost full-grown - from the sea. There was no record of childhood, no record that his parents had immigrated... the first mention of Blair Sandburg, DoB May 24th 1969, in any record was when he was enrolled in a school in Seattle. From there, at age sixteen he went to Rainier, and he had remained there ever since.

Sitting opposite Simon, Jim waited more or less patiently for his Captain to speak. He was not, he knew, in trouble - his reports were up to date, and in any case Simon was not looking annoyed. He drank half of his own coffee while he waited.

Finally, Simon said, "Jim, you said Sandburg was your cousin's kid."

"Er... yes."

"But that was just to cover up the sentinel thing, wasn't it? That you needed him for that."

Jim felt his cheeks redden. "Yes. Sorry about that - I... well... "

"Wasn't sure how anyone else would take the 'heightened senses' thing so you were keeping quiet about it."

"Yes."

Simon nodded. "I can understand that. If I hadn't seen for myself what you can do... "

"I wouldn't be able to do it without Sandburg."

"Are you sure?"

"I know it's only been a few days, but yes, I'm sure. He keeps me grounded. Helps me keep control."

Simon hesitated for a moment more, but he could put off no longer...

"Jim, how much do you know about the kid?"

"Well... not much. He doesn't talk about himself. Ask him something and he manages to twist it around so he's speaking about you."

"I'm not surprised. Jim - I don't know who he is, but our check couldn't find any record of someone called 'Blair Sandburg' before 1984. For the first fifteen years of his life... Blair Sandburg didn't exist."

"Witness protection?"

"Possible, I suppose," Simon agreed. "And I like that possibility better than the one that at fifteen he was some kind of criminal, on the run and hiding behind a false identity, though a university career, going for a doctorate, does make that unlikely. But Jim - we're going to have to ask him. If he's to work with us... you and I, at least, need to know."

"I know," Jim said. "He's coming in this afternoon. When he does... when he does I'll tell him you want to see us, and once we're in here, I'll leave you to do the talking, and guard the door.  That'll serve a double purpose - keep him from running, though he wouldn't get far through the bullpen if he tried - all you'd have to do is yell 'Stop him!'. I'd also be able to keep anyone else from coming in, and if it is something like witness protection, it would let him see we're protecting his anonymity."

***

Blair walked into the bullpen just after one.

Even although he'd only been going in for about a week, everyone knew how he'd helped Jim catch Veronica Sarris and then, just a day or two later, bluffed Kincaid's pilot into returning to the PD and landing on the roof, making it possible for them to arrest Kincaid as well as his men. As a result, he was greeted with more enthusiasm and friendliness than he'd originally expected. He responded happily as he made his way to Jim's desk.

As he reached it, Jim stood. "Hi, Chief. Simon wants to see us."

"Okay."

Blair dropped his backpack beside Jim's desk, threw his jacket over the back of the chair, and followed Jim into Simon's office. "Hi, Simon!"

"Sandburg. Have a seat."

Blair sank into one of the two chairs in front of Simon's desk, only then noticing that Jim had paused just inside the door. "Jim?"

"Just making sure that nobody walks in on us," Jim said quietly.

"That sounds ominous."

"We hope it isn't," Simon said. He looked at Blair, silent for long enough that the younger man began to look a little worried.

"So what's the problem?" Blair asked.

"Who are you?"

"Who...? I'm Blair Sandburg - "

"No, you're not. Or, rather - you're Blair Sandburg now, but who were you before you were Blair Sandburg? Who were you before 1984?"

"Well, I wasn't Winston Smith, even if you seem to think this is the Ministry of Truth!" Blair snapped.

Simon looked puzzled for a moment, then dismissed Blair's comment as meaningless and irrelevant, though he was beginning to think that Blair's - yes, defiant - tone made 'fifteen-year-old criminal' more likely than 'protected witness'. "Look, we did a background check on you and the first record we could find for you was when you went to school in Seattle in 1984. Where were you before that? Were your family illegal immigrants, perhaps? You were fifteen - so don't tell me you don't know!"

"No, we weren't illegal immigrants!" Blair snapped. He glanced over at Jim. "Did you know about this?"

"Not until Simon told me today. The check was pure routine, Chief, nothing personal. Every civilian employee has his - her - background checked. I knew it would be done, and didn't expect it to show up anything unusual. But since it has... Simon and I need to know why fifteen-year-old Blair Sandburg suddenly appeared, but it's nobody else's business - which is why I'm standing here in case someone tries to walk in, although because she does know the basics Rhonda would probably tell anyone that Simon wasn't immediately available."

Blair rubbed his hands over his face. Finally he looked back at Simon. "Okay. I'd... rather not tell you my real name," he said. "And in any case, what I thought was my real name isn't. I don't know what my real name is.

"No, I haven't done anything wrong... it's just... " He let out a long breath that was almost a sob.

"Witness protection?" Jim asked gently.

"No." He paused, clearly fighting to keep from breaking down. At last he went on, very quietly, "I wish it were that simple. My father... I adored my father, and thought he really loved me. When I was young he took me places, showed me things... but as I got older, he began to ignore me. Brush me off. And then, a few days after my thirteenth birthday, he tried to kill me."

The startled exclamations from the other men broke the silence as he swallowed before going on. "Mom heard something, came in, realized what was happening, and hit him from behind really hard. Knocked him out. We took a couple of minutes - if that - to pick up some money I had saved that was in a drawer in my bedroom and her purse, and ran for it. We took Mom's car, stopped at the bank long enough to withdraw as much money as possible, drove on another few miles, abandoned the car in a supermarket parking lot, took a cab from there to a shopping mall, delayed there about half an hour, then took another cab to the local bus station, and caught the first long distance bus that was leaving. We changed buses several times, sometimes doubling back - left a really convoluted trail in case he tried to find us, and didn't stop running till we reached Seattle. We changed our names, Mom got a job, enrolled me in a school there." He hesitated for a moment, then went on. "She found a way around the birth certificate thing - apparently she'd known a woman called Sandburg who'd had a son in May of 1969, so she adopted her identity, claimed that we'd lost everything in a fire, asked for a duplicate birth certificate and gave me his identity. That was over a year later, when we were well established in Seattle. The original Sandburgs had emigrated in 1971, gone to Israel. I was fourteen, but I'd always been clever, so it was quite easy to get away with claiming I was fifteen; I could do the work. I've always said I started at Rainier when I was sixteen, but... "

"You actually started at Rainier when you were fifteen," Jim said.

"Yes."

"Do you know why...?" Jim asked.

"I think so," Blair said. "Well, it's a guess, really, but when Mom told me the story, she said she was pretty sure it had to be why... Dad was sterile. He'd always wanted to have children, and when the months passed and she didn't become pregnant, he first of all blamed Mom, then finally agreed that they should both be tested. When the doctors told him he was shooting blanks, he was shattered.

"He had a close friend who... well, after discussing things with him and with Mom, the man I'd thought was my father persuaded his friend to act as surrogate, sleeping with Mom - half an hour every evening until she knew she was pregnant.

"The friend - the man who actually was my father - was killed in an accident a couple of years later, just before they were going to try to have a second child. Mom never told me his name.

"When I was very young, there didn't seem to be a problem - as I said, he seemed to love me very much; but eventually, when I was almost twelve, apparently I began to look more and more like my real father. That was when Dad started pushing me away.

"Mom reckoned he'd become... well, unbalanced, because he couldn't fool himself any longer into thinking of me as his; even though it had been his suggestion in the first place for Mom to sleep with the friend. It was too obvious - to him, at least - that he wasn't my father... my biological father. Somehow he'd begun to convince himself that Mom had had a clandestine affair with the friend, rather than something that he had himself arranged.

"Mom has kept in touch with her parents, who had never much liked him - and apparently he's still looking for us, claiming that he wants his son back, though he doesn't seem to have realized that we moved to another part of the country, and he certainly doesn't seem to have realized that Mom changed our name... especially to a Jewish one." He looked at Simon. "So there you have it, Captain. Is it a problem?"

Simon shook his head. "No. I'm sorry - "

"Hey, if it was a routine check it had to be done, right?" Blair visibly relaxed.

Simon nodded, then said, "So what are you two cluttering up my office for? Don't you have work to do, Detective?"

"Yes, Captain," Jim replied. "Come on, Chief." As they left Simon's office, Jim went on, "Have you had lunch yet?"

"No, I was held up at Rainier, and if I'd stopped for lunch I'd have been late getting here - but it's not a problem."

"Well, I haven't had lunch either, so let's go and eat before we do anything else... "

***

From his office, Simon watched them leave the bullpen. He still wasn't totally sure about the kid, and without his original name there was no way to check the story, but his instinct was to believe it.

Hell of a load for anyone to carry.

Simon spared a moment to think about his own son, glad that - resentful though Daryl was about the divorce - he would never carry the burden of not knowing who his actual father was, or that the man he called father wanted him dead; and then Simon turned back to his own work.

***

Blair was fairly quiet as he and Jim made their way to the nearby diner that the cops tended to patronize. Jim respected his silence, knowing that Blair had to be struggling with some bad memories.

Over lunch - they had decided on sandwiches - he seemed to cheer up a little, and began to tell Jim about the class he had taught that morning. It was at least entertaining, Jim thought, especially if it kept Blair's mind off... what he had told Simon - and by extension, him - just a few minutes previously.

"Once we started discussing the quality of life for people living on a fairly small island - it was amazing the range of reactions. I've got a minor in psychology and I thought I knew how people were likely to react in any given situation, but it really was an eye-opener how far the range of the students' reactions went. A few thought it would be really cool, living away from civilization, seeing it as... not quite anarchy, but not having to think about the laws that big countries followed. I don't say that they have a secret desire to be criminals, just that they thought it would be fun not to have to worry about - well, obeying rules. A lot felt that it would be terribly confining - boring, even - to live in such a restricted environment. One or two, though, thought it would be very difficult, a real challenge for the inhabitants of the island - how could they possibly get enough food, for example, where could they possibly get fresh water. One asked how the people got there, and why they had thought it a good idea to stay in a place with such limited resources, which led someone else to suggest that they were maybe the survivors of a shipwreck. That led to a complete change of direction for the discussion.

"One or two still thought that the men would enjoy having escaped from the discipline of shipboard life, and would be happy to live without rules, though the ones who saw the problems pointed out that without someone - well, giving orders, there would be a lot of wastage of the few resources they had. But it didn't take long before someone brought up the question of sex."

"But of course," Jim chuckled as Blair chewed a mouthful of his sandwich.

"Someone else pointed out that it wouldn't be any different from when the men were on their ship," Blair went on. "What had they done about sex there? You'd be surprised how many blank faces there were. It was actually one of the girls who suggested that maybe at least some of the men paired off, rather than just masturbate."

"I'll bet a lot of the men didn't react well to that," Jim said.

"You're not kidding!" Blair's laugh sounded unforced. "I hadn't had to intervene at all up till then - the discussion had been going really well; sometimes I have to put in a leading question to get the students thinking but this lot are pretty good at coming up with ideas. But the girls were mostly agreeing with the suggestion while the men were yelling, even screaming, homophobic protests, and it didn't show any sign of calming down. I'd say only a couple of the men were really horrified, really homophobic, but one of them is one of the natural leaders in the class, and I think the rest of the men followed where he led even if at heart a few of them thought Noreen had a valid point."

Jim nodded. "It was something I saw in the army," he said. "A lot of the men stuck with Mrs. Palm, but some did pair up, a few frequently, others just occasionally... and the odd thing was that it was most often the married ones who looked for a partner. It was the same when we were based in a town - it was the married men who went after the prostitutes rather than the ones who weren't married."

Blair frowned. "As if... they were used to sex on demand, as it were, while the unmarried men were more used to doing without or just jerking off?"

"Yes," Jim said. "Oh, it wasn't all of the married men, by any means, just some of them, but... "

"But," Blair agreed.

Their sandwiches finished and their coffee drunk, they left the diner after Jim paid and they headed back to the PD.

***

Blair was totally quiet as they returned to the station, as if he had talked himself out while they were in the diner. In fact, he was thinking, and thinking hard.

After they had - yes, run away, Naomi had, as he had told Simon, kept in touch with her parents, at least intermittently. She had phoned them, but never given them a way to contact her. She had let him spend a minute talking to them during her calls, but he hadn't spoken to them since he went to Rainier... Naomi said she'd told them he was attending a university, though not which one... but perhaps it was time for him to contact them direct.

Of course, he didn't know the phone number... but he did remember the address, and wrote it down.

After thinking about it for a few more minutes - in some ways it would make more sense to do this through Naomi, but as usual he wasn't sure just where she was - Blair went over to Rhonda, taking the sheet of paper with him.

"Rhonda... "

"Yes, Blair?" When he hesitated, she went on, her voice very friendly, "What can I do for you?"

He took a deep breath. "I... I'm sorry to bother you, but could you find me a phone number to go with this address?" He gave her the piece of paper. "It... it's personal, nothing to do with a case, but... " Again he hesitated for a moment. "You... you know about the check Captain Banks had to do on me."

"Routine," she said. "Yes, I know." She glanced at the paper, noting the Fort Worth address. "Is this where you used to live?" she asked gently.

"Yes," he whispered. "Well, sort of. That's actually my grandparents' address, Mom's parents, but I never knew their phone number. My mother called them sometimes, after we left, but they couldn't call her back because she never told them where we actually were, and when I went to Rainier she only told them I'd gone to university, but not which one. And... well... I never tried to write to them in case Dad somehow managed to see the letter. I don't think he was likely to - they never much liked him - but when I was younger I was really scared that he'd find me and... and... " He shook his head. "How much do you actually know?"

"Just what Captain Banks did - that there was no record of a Blair Sandburg before 1984. But you just said - 'In case Dad managed to see the letter'. Which tells me that you had a problem with your father?"

He licked his lips. "He tried to kill me." Ignoring her gasp of horror, he went on. "It's... complicated. Mom got me away, got us new identities... and from what my grandparents have told Mom he's still looking for us. But I haven't spoken to them since I came to Cascade, and I really think it's time I did."

"Well, I can get the number easily enough - do you want me to speak to the people at that address, make sure your grandparents are still living there?"

"Would you? Oh - I don't think Mom ever told them the Sandburg name. My... my original name... was Harry Ingram. My Mom's name was Ellen... Ellen Harris."

"So your grandparents' name is Harris," Rhonda said.

"Yes."

"Okay. It'll take a few minutes - I'll call you when I get something."

"Thanks." Making a mental note to buy something nice for her, Blair went back to Jim's desk.

"I think you've made the right decision," Jim said softly.

"Oh - you listened." Blair wasn't sure why he was surprised.

"I'm worried about you, Junior. What you told Simon... "

Blair blinked, but couldn't prevent the tear that ran down his face. "I miss them," he managed. "Even Dad... I'd managed to sort of forget, over the years, till now, when I had to think about it again. Now... " His voice broke as he brushed away another tear. "Even though he tried to kill me, I still love the man I knew as my Dad. It really hurts that he began to hate me so much he wanted to see me dead. And it sort of hurts that I never had the chance to know my real father. I really don't know who he was... Naomi - my Mom - told me about him, after... but she never told me his name. 'It doesn't really matter,' she said. 'He's dead now. He was a good friend, but that's all he ever was. I liked him, or I wouldn't have agreed to sleep with him. But maybe going to a clinic and getting artificial insemination would have been better.' She could have been right - surely Dad wouldn't have been jealous of a totally anonymous sperm donor, and there would have been nothing in my appearance to remind him... but then I wouldn't have been me, I'd have been someone different... "

He broke off, and took a deep breath. He breathed steadily for a minute, and then visibly relaxed.

"Better?" Jim asked.

"Yeah."

"Blair - " Rhonda. He went over to her; she held out the handset to him. "It's your grandfather."

He took it, whispering, "Thanks." Then he took one more deep breath. "Grandad?"

"Harry! Is that really you?"

"Yes," he said. "Oh, Grandad, I've missed you!" He was only half aware of Jim and Rhonda moving away to give him some privacy. "I'd have liked to stay in contact, but Mom always thought that it would be safer... "

"She was right. Your Dad... well, you know who I mean... is still looking for you and your Mom. Even after all those years... "

"Does he still think we're in the Fort Worth area?"

"He concentrated on Texas and the neighboring states for a long time," Ally Harris said. "I don't think he ever knew about that restless streak your Mom had. She loved Ingram enough to hide how much she enjoyed traveling... but when he couldn't find any sign of her, he had to accept that she'd moved further away; he started to look further afield.

"Your Mom phones us sometimes and I can tell that a lot of the time she's not in America, so I don't think there's much chance that he'll find her."

"She visits me occasionally, but a lot of the time I've no way of contacting her. She said once, when I asked, that it was to keep me safe. That if Dad ever managed to track her down, I couldn't accidentally let him know where I was by trying to contact her... though sometimes I think he's more likely to be able to find me, because unlike her, I've stayed in one place since I was s- fifteen."

"She said you were at university, but not which one."

"Yes... I'm working now for a PhD." He was silent for a moment, then said, "How's gran?"

"She's out at the moment - and she'll be so pleased that we've heard from you! Harry... are you happy?"

Blair smiled. "Yes. I've got good friends here. I do miss you and gran, and it still bothers me that Dad... well. I don't suppose we'll ever know why he began to see things so wrong."

"Blair - Jim wants you." It was Rhonda.

"Oh - thanks, Rhonda. Sorry, Grandad, I'm doing a ride along to get material for my PhD, and the guy I ride with is calling for me. But now that I have the number, I'll call again."

"Not too often, Harry, or at any set time - "

"Grandad, I know that. I know from Mom - don't ever set up a pattern. Anyway - must go. I love you both. Bye."

"Bye, Harry. Look after yourself."

Blair hung up, and glanced at Rhonda. "Give me the number?"

She smiled as she handed him a slip of paper. "I'm ahead of you. Now go and calm Jim down - something's got him really agitated."

Blair glanced round the bullpen. "Where is he?"

"He went to the break room."

Blair nodded and headed for the break room. He found Jim sitting at the table, resolutely breathing steadily, obviously trying to force himself to be calm.

"What's wrong, Jim?"

Jim took one more deep breath. "I'm sorry, Blair - really sorry. It just suddenly hit me how much you lost... "

"It was good, speaking to Grandad again," Blair said. "I think I might call again tonight - gran was out, but she'll surely be back by evening. Yes, I know I'd probably be better not to phone back for a few days, but... Well, this first day, surely it should be all right? Just a short call to say hello."

"Just... don't actually tell them where you are. Safer that way."

"Naomi drummed that well into my head," Blair said.

"She wants to keep you safe." He reached out and caught Blair's hand. "What we know... It's between Simon, Rhonda and me. Nobody else."

What he carefully didn't say was his suspicion that Blair's mother's story about 'the surrogate suggested by her husband' was a lie; his suspicion that she had slept with the friend then tried to pass the resulting child off as her husband's. Only Blair began to resemble the friend, and he'd realized the truth. It still didn't excuse him from trying to kill Blair, so Jim wondered if the man was totally sane - he must have known he'd have been an automatic suspect when his 'son' turned up dead.

***

That evening, Jim followed Blair back to the ex-warehouse in the waiting for demolition area where the grad student lived. When he saw it, he was far from happy about Blair's 'apartment', but wasn't sure what, if anything, he could do about it. It was very sparsely furnished, if 'furnished' was the right word; everything seemed to be cobbled together out of packing cases, with an air bed and air cushions providing some padding.

The phone call went well, and after hanging up the receiver, Blair looked much, much happier. "Though I wish it were possible to visit them," he murmured.

"Maybe one day," Jim said. "Meanwhile... why don't I see what I can find out about your... the man you called Dad?" He hesitated for a moment thinking how best to word what he wanted to say.

"Blair, you said your mother knew a woman called Sandburg and took her name... would your... Hell, it's easiest just to call him your Dad. Would he have known about her?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think he knows the Sandburg name. He'd still be looking for Ellen and Harry Ingram.

"As for Mrs. Sandburg - I don't know how Mom knew her, but... She had had a couple of years in the hippy lifestyle before she married, joining in protests and things, then she sort of outgrew it... She might have known Mrs. Sandburg from then, though she probably wasn't Mrs. Sandburg then. But she did keep in contact with some of the friends she made then, still visits some of them occasionally." He gave a wry grin. "The last few years... She'd outgrown the hippy lifestyle but I suspect that she drifted back into it after I was safely settled in at Rainier."

The knock on the door made them both jump. Jim crossed to it, listened for a moment, then opened it. A woman stood there.

"Mom!" Blair crossed quickly to her, pulled her inside and gave her a quick hug. "What brings you here?"

"Can't I come and visit my son sometimes?"

"Of course you can!" Jim said as he lifted her case and closed the door.

"How long can you stay?" Blair asked.

"Not more than a couple of days," she said. She glanced very quickly at Jim, then turned her attention back to Blair.

Uh-oh. Blair knew instantly that there was a problem - or that Naomi at least thought that there was one. "What's wrong?"

"Blair, the two days is to let you... well, get ready to leave here. You can tell Rainier that there's a family emergency and you don't know when you'll be back."

"Is this something to do with Mr. Ingram?" Jim asked quietly.

Her jaw dropped. "Blair, tell me you didn't - "

"Mom, Jim's a cop. I needed a subject for my PhD dissertation, and decided to do it on the work of the police. That meant getting a ride along with a cop - specifically a detective; but they do an automatic check on the background of any civilian working with them, and discovered that - well, I didn't have one. I had to tell them.

"Only three people know, and they won't tell anyone else; Jim, who is the cop I'm riding with, his captain and the unit's secretary.

"And there is one other thing - the secretary got me Grandad's phone number, and I've spoken to him and Grandma today."

She sighed. "I... I don't deny I'd have been happier if you hadn't had to tell anyone, or that you hadn't risked contacting Mom and Dad, but I do see the position you were in.

"The thing is... " She hesitated. "Fred - your Dad - has found out where you are. I think - no, I know - he'll come after you."

"How - ?" Blair asked.

"I've had a private detective keeping an eye on him. Apparently he had a photo of Henry when he was a young man - "

"Henry?"

"Oh... I never did tell you his name, did I - your sperm donor. His name was Henry Ford. We used to joke about it, because his job was selling cars. He always said, 'With a name like that, what else could I do?' You began to look very like him, which I think was why... Anyway, Rod - my detective - discovered that Fred was sending copies of the photo to anywhere that publicized missing persons, saying that his son had been abducted twelve years ago by his ex-wife, and he was desperate to find the boy; the son had strongly resembled his younger brother, whose photo this was."

"And someone who recognized Blair contacted him?" Jim asked.

"Yes."

Jim glanced at Blair. "How many people know where you live?" he asked.

"Not many - there are always some students who react badly to a poor grade; so we - anyone on the teaching staff, TAs and even tenured professors - tend to keep pretty quiet about where we live. A year or so ago a couple of students found out where one TA lived and he got a lot of nuisance phone calls; he knew who they were but couldn't prove anything. After a month or so he moved. But while I trust the people who do know... one of them could have thought he was doing me a favor by letting my Dad know where I live."

"The things that work out badly that are done with the best of intentions," Naomi said.

Blair nodded, as if he thought she was meaning whoever had unwittingly 'betrayed' him, but somehow knowing that she was also referring to herself and Henry Ford - the 'real' father whose name he had just learned. Because ultimately that had ended up badly. He couldn't regret what his mother had done... if she hadn't, as he had told Jim, he wouldn't have been *him*... but he wished - how he wished - that the man he had grown up calling 'dad' still loved him.

Jim frowned thoughtfully. "Okay," he said. "If Ingram knows this address, it makes sense for you to leave here and for us go somewhere else until he's caught."

"Us?" Blair asked, his voice a little hesitant.

"If you think I'm going to leave you unprotected while that nutcase is planning on killing you - " Jim began, then hesitated. "I suppose I shouldn't call him that - you both loved him."

"Once," Naomi said. "Yes, in a way I suppose we both still do, but he gave up his right to be loved by us years ago." She sighed. "If Henry had lived, if he had given Fred and me another child, things might have been different."

"Or maybe not," Blair said. "There would have been two of us to remind him that... that *he* couldn't give you children."

Naomi sighed. "Yes - discovering that he couldn't ever father a child... it did hit him hard. Sometimes I've thought... Sometimes I've thought it was a pity he was ever tested; that I should have gone to a clinic and been artificially inseminated, and just pretended that you were his... But that's twenty-twenty hindsight."

"All right," Jim said briskly. "Chief, you pack up whatever you need - " He broke off as he caught a glimpse of a sleek, dark shape running along the base of the furthest wall. "You've got rats here."

Blair shrugged. "Old warehouse - goes with the territory."

"If I'd known that before today... You're not staying here any longer. Pack up everything that's yours. Come home with me - I've only got one spare room but there's a large, very comfortable couch in the living room. You can stay with me as long as you want. Nobody will know that address to give to Ingram."

Blair looked at him. "Thanks," he whispered.

It didn't take long to pack everything up. Almost everything was stored in metal boxes, and he transferred his clothes from them into a duffel and his backpack. "Most of my books are at Rainier," Blair admitted. "I couldn't risk the rats deciding that they were edible." He pushed two small pots, three mugs and half a dozen assorted plates into one large plastic bag, a small two-burner electric cooker into another, and two large tins that had once held crackers for cheese into a third. "My larder," he said as he added half a dozen cans of soup to the third bag.

They carried Blair's things to his car, and filled the trunk and back seat with them, then went back into the warehouse to make a final check that Blair had in fact collected everything. All that was left were the inflatable cushions and air bed; he let out the air, folded them and pushed them into another plastic bag. "That's everything."

"Then let's go," Jim said.

Blair paused long enough to switch off the electricity, then walked out without a backward glance.

"Follow me," Jim said, turning to his truck as Blair slid into the driver's seat of his car.

"Give me a minute to get my car," Naomi said. She checked that the road was clear and started to walk briskly across it - just as a car swung out of the space beside a neighboring warehouse, onto the road and headed straight for her.

She dropped her purse and ran for the opposite sidewalk - she was nearer it. The car struck her a glancing blow and she fell. Without slackening speed even for a second the car shot on and around the next corner.

Blair was already out of his car and running for Naomi before it disappeared.

"Mom!"

Naomi was breathing steadily, and managed a faint, meant-to-be reassuring smile. "Think... my leg's broken. Apart from that... I'm all right."

Jim walked briskly across the road and joined them, pushing his cell phone back into his pocket and collecting Naomi's purse on the way. "I've called for an ambulance," he said, and handed the purse to Blair.

He kept one hand close to his gun as they waited, alert in case the car should return; he, at least, was well aware that Naomi had been run down deliberately, not accidentally. He was also aware that there was little point in trying to trace the car involved; it was almost certainly stolen. And it was almost certainly an opportunistic attack; the planned target had almost certainly been Blair.

And Ingram, if it was indeed Ingram, would be an idiot if he returned... of course it was possible that he had been so intent on Naomi that he hadn't realized there was an independent witness, since Jim had already been pretty well hidden from the road as he was about to open the door of his truck - but he might have been aware of Blair running across the road, in which case he might come back hoping to run Blair down as he crouched beside his mother.

And yes... sure enough, there it was, speeding back around the corner, on the wrong side of the road. Jim grabbed his gun and fired at the front tires. One blew and the car slewed sideways and slammed into the wall fronting the empty lot where a disused warehouse had already been demolished.

Gun at the ready, Jim ran towards the crashed car, but there was no sign of movement from it. When he reached it, it was to find the driver, who wasn't wearing a seat belt, slumped sideways and a spiderweb of cracks on the windshield, running from where his head had obviously impacted. <i>Another ambulance</i> Jim thought. Although there was one on the way - and he could just hear the siren - no way was he putting this guy in the same ambulance as the woman he had just tried to kill!

He groped in his pocket for handcuffs, and fastened the unconscious man to the steering wheel. Then, knowing that the approaching ambulance was still some minutes away, he called the PD.

***

Blair looked up as Jim joined him. "Think I'll still need to move?" he asked.

Jim nodded. "If you think I'm going to leave you living with those rats," he said, "you can just think again. You can stay with me short-term till you find somewhere that doesn't have wall to wall rats - "

"Jim, that - " he nodded towards the warehouse - "is the best I can afford. I've tried to find somewhere with fewer... let's say room mates, but everywhere I've looked has been at least double the price I pay there. Yes, working as a TA gives me some money, and I do a little tutoring on the side for a few dollars more, though most students can't afford more than maybe a maximum of five dollars a session. I get enough to manage - I'm not joining the homeless who are raiding supermarket dumpsters for past-its-use-by-date food, though I admit I lean on 'reduced for quick sale' on its last day of shelf life food. But if I had to pay more in rent than I do, I would have to raid those dumpsters, and I don't want to do that." The last two sentences were too quiet for his mother to hear.

Before Jim could say anything more, the ambulance pulled up beside them. Naomi was quickly assessed, carefully lifted onto a stretcher and put into the ambulance. "We're taking her to Cascade General," one of the EMTs said. "We can either take one of you in the ambulance, or you can follow in your own vehicle." He glanced towards the crashed car. "Is there someone in that?"

"The guy who ran Ms. Sandburg down," Jim said. "There should be a patrol car and another ambulance here in a few minutes. Chief, I'll have to stay here to sort that out, but if you take your car and follow your Mom, I'll get her car taken somewhere safe, then join you at the hospital... Oh, her car keys - "

Blair opened the purse he had taken from Jim and checked inside. "Here," he said and handed over a car key.

"Okay. I'll be at least an hour, possibly a little more, behind you - but wait for me, understand?"

Blair nodded. "Okay," he said, and headed back to his car.

***

When Jim returned to the crashed car, it was to find the driver beginning to move. When the man realized that he was handcuffed to the car, he seemed to become more aware, and looked around. Jim moved totally into his line of sight.

"Fred Ingram?" His voice was very cold.

"Who wants to know?"

Jim pulled out his badge. "Detective Ellison, Cascade PD. You are Fred Ingram?

"Yes."

"Fred Ingram, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Ellen Harris - " He was interrupted by the arrival of a patrol car.

"Hello, Detective."

Jim grinned. "Hello, Hopkins. We're waiting for an ambulance for Mr. Ingram here - he lost consciousness for a while so needs to be checked out. After that, if the doctor clears him, he needs to be taken in and charged with attempted murder - I didn't finish the Miranda, so that'll have to be done too. If the doctor doesn't clear him and he has to be kept in, would you and Trevor stay on guard, please. Fred Ingram, and he deliberately ran down Ellen Harris; she was his wife - I don't know if there was ever a divorce. She left him some twelve years ago after he tried to kill their son Harry." While he was speaking, they were joined by Hopkins' partner, Dick Trevor. "He only hit Ms. Harris a glancing blow, but it broke her leg; he was on his way back, presumably to try to finish her off - and possibly their son, too - when... " He indicated the car. "Oh, and I suspect the car is stolen."

"Did you actually see what happened, Detective?"

"Yes." He decided on a slight adjustment of the truth. "We'd heard that Ingram was still looking for his son and had discovered where Harry lived, and I'd come to persuade him to move. Ms. Harris arrived while we were speaking, with the same aim - to get Harry to move. He agreed, and Ms. Harris was crossing the road to get her car when Ingram arrived and tried to run her down. Harry left his car and ran over to her - my guess is that Ingram saw him in the rear mirror and decided to have another go; he came back round the corner on the wrong side of the road, aimed straight for them. I shot out the tire to protect them and he crashed. Then the ambulance for Ms. Harris arrived and she's on her way to hospital now, with Harry following. I had to stay to deal with Ingram."

He had just finished when another ambulance arrived. Ingram was given a quick check, the EMTs decided he had a concussion and should go to hospital - "Not Cascade General," Jim said quietly. "He deliberately tried to run someone down - she's been taken there. Mercy General would be better."

"OK," the driver said.

"He's under arrest, so Officers Hopkins and Trevor will go with you, one of them in the ambulance."

Within a few minutes Ingram was on his way to Mercy General, Hopkins sitting in the ambulance with him and Trevor driving the patrol car.

Jim went back to his truck and climbed in. He still had to wait for the tow truck... While he was waiting he phoned Simon.

/Banks./

"It's Jim. Were you told what happened in the derelict warehouse area near the docks about half an hour ago?"

/No./

Jim gave Simon a quick run-down of events, finishing with, "So Hopkins and Trevor have gone with him to Mercy General, but if he's to be kept in we'll need to arrange for a relief for them. It was definitely attempted murder, Simon."

/Right, I'll see to that. Jim - derelict warehouse area?/

"It's where Blair has been living - all he can afford, apparently. I'm taking him back to the loft. Oh, and can you send a patrol car here with the aim of taking Blair's mother's car somewhere, maybe the PD garage, till she's able to drive again?"

/Right. Jim - you do realize you'll have to answer a few questions for IA?/

"I know, but he was aiming straight for them, and the way the car ended up - well, Hopkins and Trevor can testify that it was on the wrong side of the road."

/You didn't tell them it was Blair - /

"I was very careful to use the names Harry and Harris. But Simon, I think the car was probably stolen. The PD tow truck isn't here yet - when it takes the car in, the number needs to be checked."

/It shouldn't be long./

"Right. I'll make my report in the morning - Blair will probably want to spend as much time as possible with his mother, so he won't be in. But I'll give her a bed as well - Blair can sleep on the couch - but with Ingram under arrest it should be safe enough for her to be taken to her parents' house. If necessary I'll take a few days of personal time and take her myself."

/All right, Jim. See you in the morning./

Jim closed the cell phone. He was just settling down when the tow truck arrived; he got out of the truck and crossed to the men checking the crashed car. He helped them get it loaded onto the truck, did a quick check to make sure nothing of value was lying there while the men swept the broken pieces of headlight and some pieces of metal into a sack, and watched them leave as another patrol car arrived.

Naomi's car was easier to deal with; one of the two officers took the key and agreed to leave it with Major Crime after he parked the car in the PD garage. Then he set off with his partner behind him in the patrol car.

***

When Jim arrived at Cascade General he was directed to a room where he found Blair sitting beside Naomi's bed.

"Hi, Chief," he said cheerfully, then glanced at Naomi. "Everything okay?"

"Yes. They want to keep me in for a day or two, but I'm not sure what... how... " She stumbled to a halt.

"Well, we've arrested Ingram - and no, he's not here. I had the EMTs take him to a different hospital to be checked, and if they don't keep him in his next stop will be a holding cell. Short term arrangement for you - I have a spare room, and a very comfortable couch where Blair can sleep. You can stay there for a day or two till you get over the shock of what happened, then I'll take a few days off and fly with you to Fort Worth, to your parents. You can either leave your car in the PD garage here or get Blair to drive it to Fort Worth for you. Then he and I can fly back.

"I was very careful to stick with using your own names - only Simon at the PD knows that the victim of Ingram's attack has anything to do with Blair. And when it comes to the trial, I was there and it's easy enough for me to say that you're both too afraid of how Ingram might react to risk coming back to Cascade; that you've gone into hiding again. I strongly suspect that he'll be committed to Conover, as being 'of unsound mind' rather than be sent to prison.

"And if necessary, we could bring your father here to testify to Ingram's obsessive wish to kill Blair."

"Or I come out of hiding," Blair said. "I tell the court how he tried to kill me twelve years ago. That would surely see him committed for life."

He looked at his mother. "Yes, I loved him - in a way I still do - but after what happened, I can see that neither of us will be safe unless he's locked up - not unless we change our names again and emigrate, and I don't want to do that. My life is here, with Jim - I made a commitment to him a few weeks ago - something I think only I can help him with - and if I leave it's deserting him. Because he needs that help."

Slowly, she nodded. "I think you're right," she said. "I've spent the last twelve years running, never staying long anywhere... I want to go back to Fort Worth and take up my life there again."

"Grandad told me you had a restless streak," Blair said.

"Yes, I enjoy traveling, seeing new places, but there's a difference between having two or three touring holidays a year and spending my entire life moving on, always looking over my shoulder... "

"Then that's what we'll do," Jim said. "I'll have a word with the doctor here, see if he'll release you to stay with me for a few days then clear you to go back to Fort Worth in my care. Blair can drive your car down. In fact, he could head off tomorrow with it - I'll clear that with Rainier. It'll give him a day or two with his grandparents, give them a chance to spoil him a little - " He grinned at his friend.

Blair grinned back. "What can I say but thank you," he murmured and Naomi nodded her agreement.

"It'll be good to go home," she said. "Thank you."

 


End file.
